


Endgame

by bearonthecouch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Capital Punishment, F/M, Post-Promised Day, Prompt: Last Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: The last word Roy Mustang ever heard was "Fire."





	Endgame

**Author's Note:**

> “You think the Colonel's concerned about what happens after he gets what he wants?”  
> “I know I would be, if I were him.”  
> \- Alphonse and Edward Elric, FMA: Brotherhood Ep. 31, “The 520 Cens Promise”

“But this is what we wanted, Riza,” Roy breathes.

She nods, her blonde hair falling into her eyes, not tied back the way it usually is, but left loose and tangled and spilling down to brush her shoulders as she tilts her head up to meet his eyes.

“I’m not frightened, sir. You’re right. This is what we wanted.”

Roy’s chest tightens. “I tried…”

But Riza’s already shaking her head. “We’re in this together. We’ve been in this together since the start. Since before Ishval. I bear just as much guilt as you do. Possibly more.”  
  
“Riza…”

“Don’t be _stupid_ , Roy. How could I carry on without you, anyway?”

He reaches out for her, as well as he can with shackled hands, aware that they are being watched. Not caring.

Riza takes a deep breath and Roy’s fingers run over her leg; they’re sitting opposite one another in the back of a military truck, under guard, kept together out of a twisted sense of mercy, Fuhrer Grumman’s final gift.

“In Ishval, I wanted to die.”

“I know, Roy.”

“I held a gun to my own head. I almost pulled the trigger.” Riza frowns. He’s never told her this. Not in all the years, through all the nightmares, not when they went back to Ishval, trying to rebuild. Not even when the trials forced him to recount the details of all the crimes he’d committed under Amestris’ banner. “Doctor Marcoh was there to stop me. But I…” he shakes his head. He’s rubbing his thumb against his two fingers. Sparking a fire with an ungloved hand. Riza wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it. “In Ishval, I thought this was what I wanted.”

“It’s different now, sir,” Riza says quietly.

“Is it?”

“This is _justice_. Don’t you agree?”

Roy looks at her, his eyes dark and deep. He sighs. “Fullmetal told me I was being an idiot. He told me years ago. Before the Promised Day. He said my death - our deaths - would only add to the body count, not undo it.”

Riza laughs softly. Roy smiles when she does. Even here. Even now. “He always was too smart for his own good.”

“But you don’t regret this?”

“How could I? We’re together, aren’t we?”

Roy sighs, nods. He pulls his hands away from her and leans his head against the side of the truck. He can feel the vibrations as the vehicle rumbles over the cobblestoned streets. “We are,” he agrees.

The trucks slows. Stops. The MP watching them pushes open the back door of the jeep and raises an eyebrow. “Let’s go, Mustang.” Pointedly not ‘General.’ He’s been stripped of rank since the trials ended. Technically, he and Riza are on equal footing, now. She’ll never admit it. Old habits are far too hard to break. Or maybe, they let her pretend… he can give her that. He can’t give her anything else.

It’s awkward sliding out of the truck with both his hands and feet bound, but he somehow manages. Riza sits on the edge of the truck and shakes off his help when he tries to offer it. The driver, another MP, comes around to the back of the truck, and then they’re met by two more guards, both officers, but young. Too young to remember Ishval.

The three men and one woman box Roy and Riza in, but neither of them protest or fight. This is what they wanted.

The parade grounds are stained with blood. Death by firing squad. The Flame Alchemist and the Hawk’s Eye aren’t the first to be tried and executed; part of Roy hopes they might be the last. Most of the State Alchemists and many of the higher ranking officers in Ishval have already been killed.

He can’t remember why he used to want this. Maybe Elric’s right. This is all just a waste. A waste of blood. A waste of life. It’s been a long time since Mustang believed in anything like Equivalent Exchange. If he was going to trade himself for Ishval, what sense does it make to do it a decade after the fact, too late to matter?

And _Riza…_ she was never supposed to follow him.

He glances at her and takes a deep breath, tries to give her a reassuring smile.

“I made my choice,” she whispers. “I chose this. I chose you.”

He wants to tell her that she shouldn’t have, but how far back would they have to go to change this path? It’s written on her skin. It’s always led here.

One of the guards - the woman, shoves his shoulder and Roy almost trips but doesn’t as she pushes him forward. He lets her tie him to the post. He lets her secure the blindfold around his eyes, and he almost laughs at the irony of losing his sight on the Promised Day and getting it back just to lose it again in his last moments. He closes his eyes beneath the strip of cloth. He listens to his breathing, which grows ragged as his heartbeat races under his ribcage. He licks his lips and offers no visible sign of his stress. Except his fists clench at his sides.

He can hear Grumman’s too-familiar voice reading out his name, the charges, the sentence. Roy is a little bit satisfied to hear the man’s voice falter when he says Riza’s name. But that faltering won’t save her. Roy already tried to make that bargain. He never could win against Grumman. Never when it mattered. He never expected this to come to any other end.

This is what he wanted.

_He doesn’t want this._

They ask him if he has any last words, but he doesn’t. Not for them. He’d talk to Riza if he could, but they’re all out of time.

He swears he can feel her hands brushing over his skin as he hears the guns cocking, but maybe it’s just the wind, and he’s scared and cold and he bites his lip and tastes blood and...

“Ready.”

 _No_ , Roy thinks. _Really not_. How do you get ready to die?

How long has he been ready to die?

“Aim.”

Roy listens to the too-fast beating of his heart. He thinks he hears Riza sucking in a breath. He tries to reach out for her, but his wrists are still shackled, and she’s too far away even if he had full range of motion.

She can’t see him trying, he knows. He exhales, slow, holds his his breath until his head starts to spin. Until the rest of the world fades away. Until he isn’t afraid anymore, or at least he’s too afraid to feel it.

“Fire.”


End file.
